


I'll Go With Your Flow

by ifimsowrong



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, aka one of those lovely AUs where Kate didn't happen - Stiles did, my sister (the writer) wants you to weep, so you do that, sociopath!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifimsowrong/pseuds/ifimsowrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I will kill you because you matter. He murmurs to Derek’s neck after they’re done. The sweat cooling on their bodies rapidly as it gets darker by the minute. I will kill you because I was selfish not to that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Go With Your Flow

**Author's Note:**

> My sister loves damaging me emotionally, so she wrote this. It was supposed to be beta'd by me, but... um. Enjoy! Comments are appreciated.

Derek was making a round through more exploited part of the woods- as in a place underage kids went to have a drink and make an illegal bonfire - when he heard a rustling. It was more a stumping. Out of the bushes emerged a guy with eyes big as a doe's, though Derek was the one, sporting the caught-in-the-headlights look. Because the Guy- a boy, actually- was something… else. The wolf perked it’s ears in curiosity, while his human side felt a little off. He was about to scold this man (kid! Derek, a kid!) about trespassing in reserve, when the boy spoke. A litany of mutters and high pitched sounds flooded Derek’s ears and he found himself getting lost in the cadence, that was somehow soothing - like a downpour in the woods, or a stormy ocean…- and what the hell was that. He caught himself staring like a lunatic he was, as the boy just stared back. A little gobsmacked. Oh right, the kid stopped talking. He was probably waiting for a response. Right. The, as Laura called, Why-Thou-Art-Still-Breathing-Peasant look should suffice. The only problem was the kid didn't look appalled. Far from it - he laughed and introduced himself as Stiles. _What was a Stiles?_ It was his name, apparently, and he was the Sheriff's kid. _Sheriff had kids?_ Just him. He was away for a few years, living with relatives from his mother’s side. And now came back to finish school here, catch up with his dad, all that. Derek found himself eager to know more about this Stiles person, asking questions and sharing parts of his own dull life: Derek was twenty six, worked as a park ranger and lived with his parents. He felt anxious when around crowds and was never that good at studying to end up with more interesting job. Though he enjoyed nature immensely, leaving for a weekend hikes with his sister. Stiles listened and smiled, kicking dry leaves as he walked, limbs swinging in a disarrayed fashion. He was somehow hypnotic in his vulnerability - this uncoordinated, he was lucky to have reached this far in the woods. Which was not far- ten minutes on foot from the parking lot. Though he claimed he ventured and got lost. So, as a responsible adult and a servant of the county, Derek felt obliged to walk this Stiles person home. Which he did. On a leisurely pace. Talking, and laughing, and sharing more than he ever intended to.

Xxx

Laura felt the need to remark that his face was twisted uncharacteristically. _And it will stay that way if you won’t stop! Think about your Blue Steel, Derek, you were mastering it for years!_ But he couldn't help it. He felt happy. And there was this uplifting fluttering feeling in his solar plexus he wasn't able to get rid of. All because of Stiles - because he didn't look like he wanted. He seemed curious. As if he wanted to know him not in a biblical sense. They were going for a coffee tomorrow. And it was going to be epic. He knew they will have the best time ever. Laura was standing there, gaping at him, with a spoon halfway to her mouth. That was maybe the third time he had ever seen his sister speechless.

Xxx

Derek didn’t even like coffee.

Xxx

The date (nope, not a date. Far from it. Nu-uh. Never. Not a date) with Stiles was a disaster. It was _so good_. Stiles was even better than the last time they saw each other. Derek tried to impress him so hard, he changed three times. And brushed the dust off his car (which was spending its days idly sitting in a garage for almost a year). Everything went great, they clicked like that, they got so much in common - and Stiles was sixteen. Sixteen. Derek thought he was a senior- he looked older than sixteen. He was quite well built, not at all gangly as he remembered himself at that age. So Derek might have had a revelation that he really didn't want to give a fuck either Stiles was underage or not, as this little fucker was devouring a straw obnoxiously. Or playing footsie with his calf. Or giving him this half-hooded-eyes look that made Derek feel things. Down there. He was already deliberating either he should try to ask Stiles on a real date or just try to tap that then and there, when the age thing came out. And it should have been a boner killer. So there was the problem - it should have. But it didn't. Nothing could make him stop thinking about the boy - no, Stiles - about Stiles - any other way than want and need. His wolf needed him, and his mind wanted.

Xxx

It was two days, and the wolf haven’t contacted him in any way still. This was unnerving. It was not according to plan. He sat at his desk chair, toying with his throwing knife, as he surfed through the Bestiary. There had to be something about those sappy mate bonds. He was certain he got everything right - the stalking from an early age, random run-ins at public places, the way the wolf's eyes flashed blue when he saw him the other day in the woods. And that pathetic almost whine he got out of him with just basic body language. Rub its belly and the wolf suddenly becomes a pup. Yet it showed resistance. One not so well trained in the animals psyche would think it had some moral code. Which it had not. Though Stiles had to admit - the wolf - Derek- was a sight to see. He was going to enjoy this so much! His phone chirped. Father was coming home soon. It was a novelty - to pretend. Here he was an average guy with some behavioral issues, a son to his father and a friend to Scott, his childhood friend. Here he has to be respectful to Chris, who’s ranked lower than him, and pretend he and Victoria are not on first name basis. This is a strange life he has to pretend to live. No, he has to remember how it was two years ago, when his mother was still alive and they were a family. Her death triggered his condition, and Gerard nourished it, giving him a purpose. Stiles, you see, was a natural born killer. No remorse, no empathy, just cold cunning calculation. He was abnormally good at mimicking others emotions… so good he could fool, say, a werewolf. Just in time, it appears. The Hale pack was getting out of control. Breeding like rabbits rather than dogs, litter after litter. Houseful of animals- a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. He had to be more persistent.

Xxx

It was going to be a warm day. Fog languid about the trees, clinging to his skin. Derek picked a lazy pace and jogged straight through the woods to the lake a few miles in the deep of the Hale land. First he didn't notice him - it was early enough that the autumn sun could twist the shapes to look like anything in the still lingering fog. He was tired after last night full moon- going in circles around the Stilinski household, barely able to resist howling. It was torture, the smell of Him drifting through the open window. And the sounds… He was not proud of what he did as he heard the boy - playing - with himself. Not proud, but really happy about what he did. Really happy in a wolf's point of view. Then the shape moved and transformed into a young man, leaning casually against a tree. Only Stiles could pull off casual in the middle of the woods, five thirty on Saturday morning. Derek stopped. He was, again, left speechless as his body filled with sensations, opposing one another completely. All he could do was stare. And listen, as the young man twitched and played with his sleeve, never making eye contact, while asking why did Derek never answer any of his texts. Did he do something wrong. He thought they were good. More than good. His voice quivered at the last sentence. And Derek lost it - the battle he was losing already - and, unable to resist, touched Stiles fingers with his own. Just a light caress. But that was enough. Stiles eyes lifted to meet his and there were so much emotion there, all of them striking so close to home - need to be needed, need to be excluded, to be seen. The boy leaned in a little. _I thought about you last night._ Stiles's whisper was almost inaudible. Not to human ears. Then he leaned some more, lips grazing Derek’s for a heartbeat. And then they were gone, as was Stiles, making a swift and loud departure though the woods, last tears of fog vanishing in his way.

Xxx

A month later Stiles had a Family Thing and had to leave for a weekend. Derek was sulking around the house, unable to concentrate long enough to even get annoyed. Laura was making jokes about his “Mating Moon” coming, squealing in delight as her husband tackled her from behind and carried her up the stairs to their bedroom. Derek had to leave ASAP because those two were loud on a dull day - while with the October’s moon and almost all family gone to the movies for a few hours- he should try to leave the state. So he went for a walk, that led to a jog, that led to him, ending up by the lake. And the cabin next to it. It was an old cabin- a pool house- if you will- for the Hales. Because lake was their pool- they were that kind of werewolf family. All natural all around. But the cabin. It was… Derek shouldn’t even go near it. For so many reasons. First of them- because it was saturated with Stiles smell. His and Stiles. Together. One evening Stiles showed up on his front porch and demanded to have attention been paid to him. From Derek. Laura laughed and made him come out of his hiding space under the stairs. Yes, in the closet. Har-de-har. So they took a walk that unintentionally ended up by the lake. And Stiles felt a sudden urge to come In-One-With-The-Nature, stripped and plunged into the water. That had to be freezing for a human. After a few minutes he had to join the fucker, as he was diving and showing a lot of ass. The second reason was the fact that if Derek was to go inside the cabin, he will not emerge for a day or two. Because there, under the couch, was a little ball of material sitting neatly in a corner. He knew because he hid it there. stiles undershirt. That Derek hid. Because he was now a dog. A very sad and lonely dog. Without his favourite Stiles. Oh, and the fact that they had some hardcore sex there and the floor and walls and furniture were drenched with their cum.

Xxx

Derek would have never thought he could ever get so distracted he wouldn't be able to hear people sneaking on him. Or maybe it was the smell of the person that made him careless. It was very early in the morning- it was still dark. He was half wolfed-out with pieces of shirt stuck to his teeth when a gentle hand stroked his brow. Followed by a light kiss. He was too blessed out to open his eyes or move so he lay there listening to some grunting and simmering. Then something warm and fabric-y fell on his face and he was engulfed by the smell of Stiles. Sleep, wolfie. He thought he heard the boy mutter and then Stiles was moving further from him and out the door. With a thud he was lost in his lucid almost dream state again.

Xxx

When he woke up again it was almost noon. He felt stiff from sleeping so long. Also blissed out- last night’s dream was so vivid, he might have spent the night with Stiles himself. So he stretched and scratched and picked out the lint from his teeth and thought about having a swim in the lake, when a sense of dread hit him. Hit him so hard he lost his footing and crashed to the wall. He ran out of the cabin almost taking the door with him and it hit him. The smell. The dead smell of ashes. And burnt meat. And… fur.

Xxx

Derek ran. He fell, got up again and ran harder. It felt like he wasn't moving at all.

Xxx

Something tackled him to the ground. Dark wild hair. Too long teeth. Red eyes. Laura had red eyes. And half of her scalp was still red and puckered. like she was healing from a burn… she hit him in the face, her fist making his nose do a wet sound. Her punch hurts a lot more than it used to. She stands up and looks at him with dead eyes. He hears sirens. The last few feet from the forest to the clearing where the house is are the hardest. He is barely conscious from the feeling of dread, the sorrow and the emptiness inside him. And this new strong pull he feels coming from the back. It must be Laura. She’s the alpha now… The house is a smoldering shell. There are people walking about. Eight body bags lined in the driveway. That means it’s only him and Laura left. No, one more. He hopes it’s Laura’s husband. They are mates, she’s an alpha now, she needs an anchor. Peter lives, comes her voice from the forest. There is no emotion there, in her. There’s nothing left. He can hear it. Laura will go rogue in a matter of months.

Xxx

He tries to find the Sheriff but he’s not there. also, he was hoping to spot Stiles- he has some kind of an inner radar where to look for trouble. He did find Derek after all. He sits there for hours, answering the same questions again and again. No, he wasn’t home. No, he haven’t seen his sister. No, he haven’t seen or heard anything suspicious the previous night. When he is saying the last part for the fourth of whatever officer, he hears a low snarl from the woods. Yes, his heart skipped a beat. Though was he lying? He dreamt of Stiles, that was it. Did he dream of him though? Derek stood up, refused to pay attention to agitated officers around and went straight to the woods. Laura came from nowhere, her head almost healed now, eyes still red as coals. He didn’t lie. He’s going to check, to be sure. He thought he dreamt of him. He didn’t lie. There’s the chewed undershirt. And a pair of boxers. That were not there the last night. Laura opens her mouth to say something, but there’s no need. Derek runs again. Just to the opposite direction than before.

Xxx

The house is empty. It’s not hard to pick a lock when you have talons. Stile’s room is the same disheveled mess he remembered from before. But there’s the smell of ash there. In the middle of the room is a pile of clothes. All of them reek of ash and death. Stiles was there. He was there. Last night… But that doesn’t mean anything! He might have been there this morning, saw the fire, freaked out about Derek and maybe his dad had to take him to the hospital… yeah, that’s a good plan. He can live with that. But the room, it smells different somehow. Without Stiles there. his smell used to overpower anything else, and he always had that deadly edge to his scent... that smelt like poison? Derek has to leave and circle the house once more. The Sheriff's room looks like it was scarcely lived in for days. The kitchen is empty. Too much dust on the surfaces that should be used often. Without Stiles distracting him, the house has a strange edgy smell to it. Like gun powder and oiled steel and… something bad. Deadly. He follows the scent to the laundry room. The washer is askew. He pushed further and there’s what used to be a laundry shaft. Its empty now, but appears to be used as a storage. It reeks of wolfsbane. Why would Stile’s or his father have wolfsbane? It doesn’t make sense. But it does. All of it. Derek wishes it didn’t. He goes back to Stile’s room. There are a few things missing- his laptop and his lacrosse bag. A few books. He rummages through his drawers but fins nothing. The clutter that was Stiles looks artificial now. Made on purpose. Meant to distract. An empty box under his bed smells strongly of steel and oil. He goes through the house, all of it. Opening every drawer he can find, every shelf. There’s a photo album. The Stilinksi wedding. They look happy there. He’s about to rip it in half when he sees a familiar face. Argent. A lot of Argents. Another album. Some birthday party. Stiles is ten, Argent woman and a woman who looks like Stiles a little holding each other in an embrace. He takes the photos and leaves.

Xxx

It’s dark now. The area around the house is still too warm. It’s nauseating. Laura is sitting on the hood of her car. Healed perfectly now. Derek drops the photos next to her and waits. She doesn’t look down, her gaze never wavers from the house. _Did he knew_. No, of course not. Would it have made a difference if he had. No, probably not. She stands up and goes to the driver seat, never looking at him. She can’t look at him right now. Maybe ever.

Xxx

Derek is alone. He spends his days in the house. And at nights he sleeps in Stiles bed. Because he’s masochistic. The sheriff is AWOL. The police station refused to give Derek any information. Just that Sheriff resigned and didn’t leave any further address. After two months, Stiles room smells of nothing but ash and despair. And the house is for sale. No one gives Derek any information. Even Scott, who when asked does he know where Stiles is, gives him a horrified look and runs away. He goes so far he visits the Argents. Argent doesn’t say anything but smells of unease, while the woman, his wife, smirks and tells him to leave.

Xxx

Derek’s sole purpose in life becomes to hunt down Stiles.

Xxx

The girl in his class is giving him looks. She wants him so bad it’s painfully obvious. And why not? She’s pretty enough. But there’s the thing- he might have a kink now. After Derek. He might have an overwhelming need to burn something of persons’ he slept with. One time he set this guys dog on fire… Gerard had words with him. While his father looked at him like he saw a stranger. Which was quite true. The former Sheriff hadn’t known his son for almost six years then, how was he supposed to know his only child was a sociopath with a sadistic streak? Stiles bet now his father regretted sending him to his mother’s uncle after she died. They hadn’t spoken in three years now. After the class Stiles went straight to the girl, smiled The Smile and fucked her in the back of her car, in the middle of parking lot, in the middle of the day. He could hear cheering from the crowd that gathered around so he went even harder. He had no problem with performing for audience.

Xxx

A week later he felt the skin on his neck prickle. Was that the girl again? He thought she had enough to never reach out for him again- apparently the bitch was so dumb, the car thing didn’t chill her. So he fucked her and then made her walk sporting some hardcore bruises and rope marks to last a month. But it wasn’t her. In the distance almost covered by the trees stood a dark figure. A one he knew too well. He was waiting for him, boiling with anticipation. He was the thrill Stiles missed so much. Never had he felt more alive than those two months he spent in Beacon Hills. His Derek was back to kill him.

Xxx

Stiles saw him. He tipped his head slightly and purred his name, the fucker. He was even more irresistible than Derek remembered. The boy- a man now- stood up and started moving his way. There wasn’t a trace of clumsiness in his movement, he stalked more than walked towards him. Just then did it downed to Derek how much of an act it all was. They were separated by a football field when Stiles stopped and looked him straight to the eye: _where do you want to do this_? He was taken aback. He was anticipating a chase, a bloody fight, maybe some begging - anything. Anything to show that Stiles had something human in him. _C’mon wolfie, choose the place and time and I’ll be there_. And he smiled. The smile of a soulless creature. Derek’s wolf whined.

Xxx

Two hours later they met by a creek rushing through the woods. They were beautiful woods, reminded Derek of Beacon Hills before Stiles came and burned everything he had to the ground. Stiles smiles when he sees him. _Reminds him of old times, right, wolfie_? Derek tries to snarl but he can’t manage to be aggressive around Stiles. He never could. It’s his wolf. It sees its mate, no matter how damaged. And Derek himself can’t help but love the monster in front of him. He can’t make it go away. Not even after all that happened. So he does the only thing he can - he charges and tackles Stiles to the ground, lowering him on the moss covered rocks gently - and kisses him. Stiles kisses back. Derek has tears streaming down his face, nose clogged, sobs braking out of him - and he doesn’t care.

Xxx

The wolf, Derek, it’s- no, he- he is crying. And murmuring I love you while covering both of them in tears. It’s pathetic, but Stiles lets it. He sometimes lets his mind wander about what would have happened if Stiles had never left his dad. Or haven’t listened to Gerard. Or had a conscience for that matter. If if if. All he knows is that Derek is his safe memory. The way they were that day in the woods, how natural and sweet it felt.

Xxx

_I will kill you because you matter_. He murmurs to Derek’s neck after they’re done. The sweat cooling on their bodies rapidly as it gets darker by the minute. _I will kill you because I was selfish not to that night_.

And Derek understands. He embraces it. Yes. He will finally be free. Yes. Yes. Stiles will set him free.

Xxx

If he didn't know better, he would think Stiles is crying when he plunges a knife deep inside Derek’s chest and twists. The blade is coated with wolfsbane and mountain ash on top of being silver. You might think Stiles really cares. The death is quick.

The End.


End file.
